The Perfect Storm
by evenonacloudyday
Summary: requested Prentiss/Reid one-shot: two parts vodka, one part romance. add a dash of angst, and stir carefully.


_How in the hell did I end up here?_

Dr. Spencer Reid took another sip of his vodka-tonic, splashed with lemon that his drinking buddy swore would help with the pulsing headaches he had been experiencing as of late. The thirty-year-old had 3 PhDs, 2 BAs, an IQ of 187, and was fairly confident that this was not the doctor-recommended treatment for a headache, but chose to believe her anyway. It felt good on his throat as he swallowed, and she had always taken care of him. Why would he choose to doubt her now?

Besides, this gave him a chance to infiltrate the infamous Prentiss Penthouse. He had heard stories from the gang- mostly JJ and Garcia- about the luxurious DC dwelling, but seeing it in person was more than he could've ever imagined.

Granted, Emily hadn't offered a tour, but rather headed straight for the bar, excitedly pulling the younger agent behind her by the hand. A few short minutes later, she handed him her homemade concoction, and he found himself drinking with an older woman- his superior- in her apartment on a Friday night. The perfect storm.

He shoved these thoughts from his mind, determined not to waste the experience with his own overactive imagination. He was going to enjoy every second of this.

They sat in silence for a moment as Emily mixed her own drink. She spoke over her shoulder as she pulled various flavors of vodka off the expansive liquor shelf.

"You like it?"

Spencer took another sip, as if confirming it.

"mm, yeah...it's very potent." he noted with a tell-tale wince. He didn't drink often, but didn't have the courage to tell her that. She turned around, a smug smile on her face.

"I make a pretty strong vodka tonic. You'll learn."

He chuckled, tracing circles around the top of his glass.

"I thought we were curing a headache, not getting me drunk."

Emily's canary-eating grin gave her away.

"With any luck, we'll accomplish both tonight, Reid."

The younger man offered a smile, taking another sip to please Emily. This time, he felt the effects of the alcohol almost immediately.

"Wow..." he puckered his lips, making Prentiss laugh.

"there we go," she downed the rest of her drink, "you just need to loosen up, Doctor." she teased him with his formal title. Reid took this as a challenge and tipped his glass, choking down the rest of his drink.

"I'll have another, thanks." he muttered under his breath. He knew that if this drinking contest lasted much longer, she would likely drink him under the table. He only had once choice- to end this while he was ahead.

She leaned over the bar, mere inches from him, a smug grin on her face.

"Are you sure, Spencer?"

He remained straight-faced.

"bring it on, Emily."

Emily couldn't help but chuckle. Sure, she had entered tonight with pure intentions- the poor boy genius had been dealing with these headaches for weeks- but now, as she stood in front of him and watched him desperately try to keep up with a seasoned professional, she felt the need to throw the guy a bone.

"Okay, Pretty Boy..." she grabbed a bottle of tequila and an over-sized shot glass.

"Here's your chance," she began, pouring the tequila into the glass as an attentive Spencer Reid watched her every move, "to prove yourself. A jumbo tequila shot, lime chaser."

Spencer nodded.

"I can do that, no problem."

"Oh, and one more thing," Emily stopped him, grabbed a lime and quickly sliced a wedge from the fruit, then bit and held the heel with her teeth, and pointed to her mouth.

Color flushed his cheeks as he gathered the conditions of Emily's challenge.

The next five seconds seemed like an eternity as he weighed the pros and cons, eventually remembering his promise to not ruin the evening with his tendency to over-think things. It was now or never.

He quickly took the shot, lunged across the bar, and took the lime from Emily's mouth before he could change his mind. his lips inadvertently grazed the older brunette's before he slowly pulled away.

he almost couldn't taste the lime, what with the shock of being so close to the admittedly beautiful Emily Prentiss. She smiled.

"okay, you win."

Dr. Reid briefly sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, a furrow forming in his brow.

"i... think i'm going to need another." He decided, courage forming from some previously untapped source within his chest as he leaned across the counter once more to meet Emily with another slow, sensual, tequila-flavored kiss. Never in his wildest dreams did he think this would actually happen, but he was here, and she wasn't pulling away, and he would be lying if he said he didn't want it.

For once, Dr. Spencer Reid decided to let logic fall by the wayside.

He grazed her jaw with the index finger of his left hand, guiding her toward him and mindlessly removing the space between them. Emily released her grip on his back and moved her dexetrous fingers to unfasten the buttons of his dress shirt in seconds.

"Oh, Doctor, you've been holding out on me..." she teased, her voice low as she smiled against his cheek. Shivers ran up Spencer's spine as he tried to keep his cool.

"I could say the same for you."

This made the older agent laugh.

"Shut up and kiss me, Reid."

He followed her orders, slipping his tongue into her mouth and deepening the kiss. She stumbled back on her heels, surprised by his sudden show of dominance.

He immediately went to work on removing Emily's deep purple blazer, thanking whatever deity made Emily forgo her usual wardrobe of neutral-colored turtlenecks that day. Underneath her blazer was a simple white camisole, which he slipped over her head, briefly separating from the dark-haired, fair-skinned beauty.

Perhaps it was the tequila shrouding his faculties, but Spencer found himself speechless before her as she grabbed his hand and allowed him to gently graze the clover-shaped scar on her chest. How far they'd come since then...

He caught himself staring and quickly shifted his gaze.

"Spencer..." Emily whispered, "it's okay."

He finally met her eyes once more, his voice strained when he saw the pained expression on her face

"No, it's not... you deserve so much more than-"

She stopped him, pressing her finger up to his lips.

"I'll be the judge of that."

"Are you-"

Spencer was once again cut off as Emily took him by surprise and crashed into him with a reckless abandon. Clothing littered the floor as the two FBI agents clawed, kissed, yearned for every inch of skin, inhibitions clouding their sense of time. There was only this moment, together. Emily only knew of Spencer's caring, capable hands, and he only knew of her soft, welcoming skin...

Days later, they would exchange glances across the bullpen, and Emily would divert her attention to avoid suspicion from the group. Spencer would clear his throat, seeing flashes of skin and embraces and yearn for the feeling of falling asleep with her in his arms. She would lie awake late at night, remembering how it felt to be truly loved for the first time in seven years, aching for another chance. They haven't spoken of that night since, and she still holds out hope that maybe- one day- there will be another perfect storm.


End file.
